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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26107834">oh, my ancient mars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/reregulus/pseuds/reregulus'>reregulus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, NG+ Ending, Tellius Week 2020, Tower of Guidance, several billion golden years ago i lost the planet that i love to the cold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:27:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26107834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/reregulus/pseuds/reregulus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>if a wish is something like a prayer, then let levail give his final benediction in the form of a blade.</p><p>[levail survives the tower of guidance. for tellius week 2020 day 3: forgiveness / fear / force.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Levail/Zelgius (Fire Emblem), Sephiran/Zelgius (Fire Emblem)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>oh, my ancient mars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sorry levail. sorry lehran. :( i can never write anything happy. </p><p>title from the zolas, ancient mars</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>levail does not know why he was spared. </p><p> </p><p>it’s a dishonor, to breathe beyond the breaking. the blood that surrounds him should belong to him, not the countless soldiers who are pooling all their woebegotten wishes around levail, as if he could answer to any of them. he thinks it such a darkened shame, because all of their wishes had been forgotten, had never existed— what fate is that, for a servant of order to die for a nothing they will not even appreciate. </p><p> </p><p>if a wish is something like a prayer, then let levail give his final benediction in the form of a blade. and dammit, if he could not be honest, then levail could at least die. maybe that would be enough to speak of all the futures he had foolishly dreamed of when looking at a man in divinity’s embrace. </p><p> </p><p>how could he live without that? as an empty vessel who wanted nothing of itself. yes, yes, he is a self sacrificial and effacing man, but he <em> wants. </em> he wants so dearly it might destroy him. it is a desire that takes everything he has and gives nothing back. where is the logic in that? it lacks of any virtue, so maybe there was never any logic in desire at all. </p><p> </p><p>perhaps astrid was right about it all. choosing your own destiny. refusing the wishes of powerful men. doing everything by the grace of your own heart, and nothing else. maybe, if he had listened to her, he could have found some way of fortifying his own heart. maybe he would stand beside her, beside haar who decimates half of his men without a single look to him. he wishes she could given him some ounce of her quiet strength, then everything would make more sense. he could have been a better man. </p><p> </p><p>but, helplessly, levail realizes that he did not want to be a good man or a better man at all. he only wanted to be loved by one. </p><p> </p><p>and at some point, he doesn’t remember when, the barrier of light fades away and the world ends. </p><p> </p><p>before ashera calls down her judgement, before they have all turned to stone, before he even dies, the world ends. </p><p> </p><p>levail has never been afraid to die. he is a soldier, a knight. death is as guaranteed as the sun’s rising. a knight is <em> supposed </em>die. oh, for greater causes, for better men, for a peaceful future that could only be born from their swords and shield. but it is as if sharpened claws tear through his heart and refuse to let him go. it is as if every single wound he has sustained in years of battle resurface, and he forgets that he was left unscathed because every inch of his body is screaming. the stars come crashing down and set the earth ablaze, till nothing is left but levail, falling to the floor not out of any a sword’s lash or a lance’s pierce, but simply for a heart’s throes. </p><p> </p><p>it is worse than death, he concludes, when he sees the form of his general fall down alongside a stone wall. </p><p> </p><p>is that the end? to everything and anything? it is the end to him, certainly, but ike’s and the maiden’s forces clear out of the room after a few moments without any thought to him. the remaining soldiers stand down, becoming statuesque and silent. he is the only breathing thing left in this floor of the tower and he cannot understand why. </p><p> </p><p>he is paralyzed for those moments. he had never been afraid of death, but levail finds that he is now afraid of living. every kind of self effacing and self loathing wraps around him and keeps him held steady in his place as if transfixed by his lance. it would have been better, if levail was, but he is only the one left behind. </p><p> </p><p>the knight rises and rushes towards the body and wishes he could forget the sight of it.<em> this is not the great general zelgius, </em> levail thinks, <em> he would not fall so easily. he is the last true knight. </em> </p><p> </p><p>if he comes to terms with the fact that those are lies, then what is left for him to believe in? </p><p> </p><p>levail kneels down beside him, unable to tear his eyes away, but wishing that he could. numbly, he feels a moisture stream down his cheeks. <em> oh. </em> he thinks flatly. <em> of course. </em> but he never gets any closer. cannot bear to feel the coldness of his hand, how it lacks of life, when he wanted so dearly to hold it in warmth. </p><p> </p><p>so he stays there, unknowing and barely living. </p>
<hr/><p>some hours later, the army enters those doors once more, giving him no thought again. nor zelgius’s. except for one, who trails behind the rest as if unworthy to stand beside the rest. he stays, when ike and micaiah lead creation triumphant through the door he had come through only hours, only eternities ago. </p><p> </p><p>duke persis stares at him, unreadable. if there is any shock, levail cannot find any in his countenance. there is only an unbearable and limitless sorrow that glimmers in his eyes of emerald, and levail wonders what he even thinks of him. if he is even thought of at all. </p><p> </p><p>“lord sephiran!” tears crack through his voice as levail shouts. he doesn’t care about how he sounds, how unbecoming he must seem. it doesn’t matter anymore. nothing matters anymore. levail has nothing to show for his loyalty but a corpse. what deference should he give in a world that should not have existed and that levail should not have lived to see? “he— this was all for you, was it not? he died, for you.”</p><p> </p><p>the prime minister does not even look at him; only takes soundless steps towards zelgius’s body and once he reaches, sephiran bends down beside him. levail does not understand anything at all. bitterness and the fate of life all flare up and catch flame in one single, burning word that might as well destroy levail’s throat. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“why?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>sephiran’s face crumbles as he rests his forehead against the corpse. “you know why. you are the same, are you not?” desperately, sephiran reaches for the limp and bloody hand of his general and raises it to his cheek. death’s caress is nothing compared to life’s memory, and a single droplet falls onto zelgius’s closed eye. it trails down his pale face, down to the cracks ragnell had wrecked into his armor, and evaporates in a place levail cannot place. “wait for me, please.” he mumbles, collapsing into the edges of the dead man’s form. “oh zelgius, forgive me.” </p><p> </p><p>but zelgius’s hand drops from sephiran’s hold, and falls down to his side, unmoving. the prime minister recoils back and stares. <em> he’s dead. </em> levail thinks. <em> don’t you understand? </em> a wavering breath racks through sephiran’s body as he stands up. he takes one more moment in solemnity before looking at levail for the first time. quietly, the prime minister asks, “levail. will you help me take his body down?” </p><p> </p><p>the request breaks levail from his thoughts, and he still cannot make out anything out of sephiran. he nods, only slightly, before he knows what he is doing. when levail says nothing more, sephiran faces zelgius’s body again. </p><p> </p><p>“i am sorry.” sephiran says, but levail does not know to whom. </p>
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